Not everybody know this, but I am an adopted child. Only some people know because, obviously, I don't introduce myself as "Hello, I am Cinta and I am an adopted kid." Anyways, I am an adopted child and I was adopted when I was 12. So for about 8 years before that my life was like hell. Everybody say that Christmas are happy times for children. I only remember one happy Christmas during my childhood; after that Christmas, everything changed dramatically and my dislike of Christmas started as soon as I was 7.
I was born to a single mother who never cared about me and my siblings. I used to live with my grandmother and those are the only happy times I can remember as a child. Then my mother met a man, and he introduced him to us as her boyfriend. We left my grandmother's house to go to live with this man... and we started to go through hell. He seemed to be a nice man, giving presents to me and my siblings, taking us to the park, joking, playing with us, and being a lovely person... until we were in his house. Then this man showed his true colours.
Christmas was getting nearer and nearer. I was almost seven years old. One day, I asked a very innocent question, "Can we go to the shopping centre to look at Christmas presents?" I didn't see the blow coming, but it knocked me off my chair. The next thing I remember is that I was locked up in my bedroom, without any food or water, for the rest of the day and night. He yelled terrible things at me, and I couldn't understand what I had done so bad as to deserve that. And I couldn't understand why my own mother hadn't defended me. So that Christmas we didn't celebrate anything and we didn't get any present.
Next year, this man decided that it was going to be better for his job to move and go to another city. A city that was in the opposite part of Spain, so I wouldn't be able to be close to my grandmother, the only person who showed me some love at that time. I didn't expect any love from my mother by that time. We moved to Barcelona during the summer, just to find out that the job he had been offered had been an empty promise. So we were in Barcelona, jobless, homeless, and without no prospects whatsoever. The most sensible thing would have been to come back to Huelva, but this man said he was going to find a job there. We went to live at a hostel, and thus my nightmare started.
A new Christmas was approaching. This man had no job still, we hardly ever had food, and my mother had started working in a brothel. Sounds sordid, doesn't it? That wasn't the worst... I was only seven years old, so I committed again the mistake of asking what we were going to do for Christmas. This time he didn't hit me. This time he decided he wanted to have some "fun". So that very day he started to sexually abuse of me almost on a daily basis. What about my mother? Well, she used to hold me still when I started kicking to try to avoid the unavoidable. This happened for two years. Two long years in which I lost my childhood.
After that, I tried to kill myself in two occasions, almost always when Christmas was coming. Finally I found the strength to tell my neighbours about what happened to me and my siblings and I were sent to a children's home. When I was finally adopted 3 years later, I started celebrating Christmas again, although they are not happy times for me. However, when my mum (my adoptive mum, the one I consider my REAL mum) died five years ago, all my wishes to celebrate Christmas died as well.
Now you all know. So, taking into account that lots of bad things have happened to me during this time of the year, don't expect me to be happy or to wish to celebrate Christmas in a jolly way. I am sorry for this horrible rant, but I really needed to say it out loud. And the fact is that now I am feeling better.